…mind talks…

writer

At the time when I was completing my undergraduate studies, during my last two semesters, I was up round the clock doing my part-time job and drafting up plans and brainstorming ideas with my team to lay the foundations of my business. I also had to work on my senior project – which was, much to my pride, apparently the first actual human experiment to be conducted on-campus.

At that time, one of my juniors who was a foreign student would always hang out in my room because her rented room was too far from university. Sometimes she would bring another friend along with her baby. Most times she would turn the music on loud and walk around the house naked. Yes.

I also had another friend from a different faculty who would come every evening to ask me to help her with her assignments because her English sucked real bad. By real bad, I mean real, real bad. She did not understand what her lectures were about. She could not comprehend her assignments. She could not even remember what I taught her. I ended up going with her for days to the library just to help her with her assignments.

Okay, I was being quite helpful. Never did I express my tiredness or lack of time for my senior project. But as days caught on, I realized I was putting off a lot of my own assignments and postponing several deadlines – deadlines I set for myself. I began feeling as if I lost my value and energy. My hard work seemed to be running down the drain dealing with all the drama in the house.

Due to all the stress, I lost the job that had been feeding me for the past three years. I told my girlfriends no, I am sorry, but I cannot possibly help you anymore. But did they understand what I was telling them?

Well, I moved in with the one from the other faculty because she was willing to help me with the accommodation. But what I did not realize was that she did not even know how to send an email or write to her husband in English? I always wondered why the heck she could not write to him in their own native language? I also noticed that although I told her that I was quite busy with an exam the next day, she still asked me to help her with her presentations!

Oh, I hope you do not get into the same problem as I did. What did I do to solve the problem then? I scolded them vehemently. I also unfriended them. On top of that, I got up very early every morning at approximately 6AM, did my prayers, and then walked 500 meters to school. Every morning before the sun rose itself. I tried studying in the library… until my friend who couldn’t understand English turned up again out of nowhere to ask me to assist her! One day she even brought another friend who was having issues with her own project.

God bless my heart and my soul. Why was getting away from my girlfriends so important? I had definitely sworn myself out of lesbianism, to be sure. So why did I have to give them a hearty scolding every time and run away as if I were the thief?

Because it is very crucial for my subjective well-being. I needed a lot of time to think about more important matters, like my fees – I was graduating soon anyway.

Here I am talking to you on my video. And please, when you say no, please mean it. Don’t you dare laugh after saying it because there is nothing funny about the “No”. And no, I am not naked. (Photo credits to Alicia Leng)

Alone time. Hard, death-like situations are opportunities for growth, and to grow, you need to think. You need to rearrange your thoughts and give yourself a little peace of mind as you navigate yourself well. Even if you are not in a dead-end situation, you need some precious time for yourself. For growth. For self-care. That moves us to the next section.

Self-care. You only have all the time in the world to attend to every matter around you. Give yourself a little gift of time. Sip slowly over a hot cup of green tea, read your favorite detective novel, or simply do nothing for awhile. This leads to the next point.

Well-being. A holistic approach to self-care looks at not only proper functioning of the body, but also the well-being of the mind. We got a brain to think, not just for ourselves but also for others. This mass of grey matter, with all its fancy nucleus accumbens, mesolimbic dopaminergic pathways, and the stuff in your hippocampus (pardon my language) that puts you to making the right judgements – resembles other muscular tissues in the body, and requires consistent exercise to keep running. And as far as we help others do their thinking, we have to give ourselves a break to redirect our focus too.

Exercise. As mentioned earlier, self-care in the positive psychological perspective involves working out on a timely basis to keep physically and mentally fit. Join a dance class to get the entire body moving freely.

Opportunities for Self-development. Time is of essence, and the time in which we invest our time is very important. When you are already tied down with a long list of things to do, it’s okay to say no. Just say it. Don’t even feel obligated. You need time to fine-tune your strengths, because stars don’t grow overnight. They always emerge from the core of mysterious nebulae and take millennia to mature. In the same way, great ideas always form from muddled-up minds of a plethora of experiences, knowledge, and wisdom altogether. You just need to reorganize your thoughts so you don’t leave them hanging. When you mix the ingredients for a cake in a bowl, and then put the whole thing in the microwave, you’ll get a cake in the end. Of course however well it’s done requires all the love, care, and patience it needs too. So you need to be very clear to anyone who is begging for your attention while you are trying to make an amazing cake, to be able to concentrate on making such a nice cake.

Of course in reality the cake is you, and I bet you are sweet too. What about those girls who came into the picture from the start of the story – did they stop asking me the same goddamn question? No, they didn’t.

Poor girl.

Red Scarlet

PS.: No one could find any photographs of the naked girl, so pardon me.

Gazing blankly into the ghostly sky with its morning star hidden right behind the thick, heavy clouds, I downed my cup of espresso. I tried to shut my thoughts and listen to the sounds around me. I sat still in my wooden chair trying to capture some form of hope for my trusty pen to thrust its wildest dreams on.

If I could, I would. Definitely. I would part this sheet of paper from the book, roll it up, and then put it in a bottle – and set it free. Well, what if I actually did?

My thoughts would have the freedom to linger off through the water surface, forever encased in its protective covering. Hopefully it would seek refuge from raging storms, and finally meet with amicable weather in the Atlantic, before sailing smoothly into the Indian Ocean. Perhaps, thousands of years later someone would be lucky enough to stumble upon it when it gets itself stuck in the soggy sand.

Parts of the lines are quite cheesy, and I do have to apologize, Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber, for borrowing the words in your lyrics to vent my dissatisfaction.

Thank you for calling me a bitch. Thank you for assumming that I am a slut. Thank you for piercing through my heart all your sharp arrows, of setting my soul to flames. Thank you for calling me stupid, and whatever other names you felt befitting. I have never once been that, and I shall show you that I mean it.

The players are going to play, play, play. The haters, on the other hand, they are just going to hate, hate, hate. What can I possibly do about that anyway. I sort of knew you were trouble when you walked in to my life, so maybe shame on me now? Hmmm. All too often I was just left in blank space, baby; because all boys only want love if it’s torture, if it’s pain, if it’s hurt, and if blood oozes out from their hearts. What do you really, really mean? You were, in the end, the reason for the teardrops on my guitar (well, ok; it was really your guitar, but I held it with my dainty fingers sometimes). Finally, your friends talked to my friends talked to your friends talked to me, and so we are never ever getting back together. Not like I actually cared even. I only have to shake it all off my head. Yeah. Loving you was so red, in fact forgetting you was like trying to know someone I never met.

Nevertheless, from the ashes rose a phoenix with wings so large they carried it away from the consuming fire. I started showing gratitude and showering my appreciation on people, sometimes even people I do not even know who helped me in doing something. I allowed myself to be as genuine as possible in dealing with the different kinds of people I have to meet everyday. These things cannot go wrong. As a result, I am proud of myself for having grown emotionally stronger and bolder than before. It could be that my feelings have been numbed from the constant hurt, but my chains have been broken, and my soul has been set free. I hope.

A few more months – just one more semester – I will be graduating!!!! (I do wish I could insert a love icon here.) I shall be done with my degree after a long, long time. I should be so excited right? Yes I am, but no, I am also not. Oh gosh, my mind is wandering to so many places! Life is an exciting venture, a beautiful journey bestowed upon Man. There is no other gift more amazing than the gift of life.

This year also I am chasing time to kick off my positive psychology start-up as well. While I am working on one SBU (strategic business unit, that is) now, I will directly after I graduate, start-up the other SBU. Currently I am looking for sponsors and venues for investors. It has been a crazy six months running about to widen social networks and contact suppliers, and so on, whilst studying final year. I still have not mentioned that I am also doing sales. Haha. Crazy times.

I have of course had my fair share of repeating heartbreaks, but yet I did all I could to keep pushing on and on. Whether it has got to be love, wealth, fame, or self-fulfillment, I wanted it to work out this year. I probably went a wee bit overboard, pushing myself dangerously over the edge. But I had already decided from early this year that I am not going to let things happen to me just like that. I am going to make things happen to me instead.

So I just want you to know: I am fiercely fighting for whatever that is meant to be mine – my degree, my start-up, and HIM!!!!!

Never say never. All I need to do is be patient. Perseverant. Positive!!!! The 3Ps!!! Oooh – how sweet.

The cotton pashmina that veiled the lady’s beautiful mind – it fluttered in the gentle wind as she glided gallantly down the ivory steps of the ruins of the fire-beaten Colossal pillars, her velvety dress sailing along. Nothing was visible save her darkly distinguishable kohl hazel-brown eyes. The light that shone through those piercing eyes burned everything she saw into flames. But she did not seem afraid.

In a second little fairies appeared in the air; they flew around her, following her in a little camaraderie. They tweeted cheerfully, with such childlike merriment and vigor. She did not stop in her march.

Where did she come from? Why was she heading to the fire with such passionate intent?

Listen… listen closely. Feel… feel naturally. Think… think carefully. Life waltzes in its own majestic ways. No one could ever imagine how journeys would end, drastically, or with a tinge of fantasy. One may lose himself in the tangle of cobwebs, but yes, he will cut his way out and yes, he will find his way through. Darkness may plunge the anguished soul into the depths of the abyss where gargantuan monsters lie, waiting to gulp down a good meal. Gunshots may fell the body into pits of raging fire, melting the skin, eating away at the muscles.

But you know what? He will make it through. He will push his way up, regardless of how thick the gooey mess he is in. He will emerge from the pain of having his growing body held captive in the seemingly shrunken cocoon.

Today is Malaysia Day, and I have been spending the early hours of the morning to contact a few psychologists for interviews as part of my university project. I have also spent a huge amount of time talking to my business partners about the event I am planning to hold soon.

The searing pain in the head; let it go, let it go. It is hard to forget the past so sweet and which told of a future that was meant to be. It is all a learning process anyhow, although it is hard to accept. If only time could turn back its hands and work in reverse.

But how is that even possible?

I made a vow when I left: That I am going to heal like the issue never existed in the first place. I am going to swing on my chandelier from out of your grasp, back to where I belong. I am very aware of my points of origin, and whatever else I am doing. I have given my best, too. It is only for you to take it or leave it. Whatever it is, you are still a part of me.

“Imagination is more important than knowledge.” – Albert Einstein (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

Where knowledge seeks to understand, imagination strives to satisfy its curiosity.

If we could turn back in our journey, wherever we may be leading ourselves to, and look at the origins of the term, it would mean a “lettered person” in Old French. On the surface level, art is about utilizing creativity and imagination to come up with something innovative, fun, and, well, creative. Most of all, to me it means a method of self-expression, the work itself symbolizing happiness, anger, jealousy, hatred, and madness. This does not come easy to all of us.

We express ourselves in various ways. Some of us spin around the dance floor, some of us write songs – but some of us also prefer to keep to ourselves and let the voices in our head do the talking. And it comes out; it comes out in shades of red, blue, yellow, and orange. At times it comes out in streaks of the pen as the nib scribbles through a blank sheet of paper. It gets petrifying, once in a while, especially when the mind is doing all the talking, and the poor, unfortunate pen has nothing to do but etch out the mind’s jibberish.

Hell yes, writers are artists too. Writers of every kind dances along the lines of words, making music in his own way – the words find a certain kind of harmony, a certain kind of tango, with a high or low pitch, and then connect themselves in coherent flow. Just catch a glimpse of Shakespeare’s work; how meticulous it was written, that till now, hundreds of years later, people are still scratching their little round heads over the meaning behind them all.

Anyway, there goes…. I have been “wearing” this hairdo for nearly a week by now – and it makes me strangely cool. At least that is the way I think. What do you think, anyway? Is it not a spectacular piece of art? Haha.

Breaded [sic] hair. (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

Artists have the capacity to imagine to greater heights. They have the ability to “wow” the average human being, because that is just what they do. Even the most famous inventors are artists, too.

So, yeah. Writers – we are cool just like that. We are bold. Brave. Courageous. In our own silent way.

PS.: Apparently my body needs a bit more body-rocking to get going. Just saying.

Breaking free! This is how I express myself. (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

Okay, okay. Really sorry for the abbreviation, because I rarely use them in my writing (it is just not my etiquette), but guess what: You only live once. Romance. Risks. Life and death situations. Fight-or-flight. Or the other way round. Shame. Attitude. Opportunities. Courage. Determination. It is worth the risk. So take it, god damn it.

This is just a simple little life project of mine, some scheduled before I get married, some scheduled before I think I want to die. I am an expressionist when it comes to art and things like these; I believe in self-expression. I am always wanting to go beyond what I think I can do and do as much as I can, with the time I have in hand. I am always on the lookout for opportunities, spreading out my dendrites bare naked to really savor the sweet fruits of work.

Life happens, of course, and there is going to be a teeny-weeny little switch in the way things are every now and then. You just got to adapt.

Just like me and my best friend, partner in crime for life, and love. He said time will tell, and as time ticked by the minutes, he awakened my soul. His existence brought a whole new level of experience to me, incorporating more actions and deep thoughts about sharing beautiful times. Making me think seriously, how do I want to do what I want to do tomorrow? With whom?

Below is my list:

I want to express myself through music, writing, the eclectic arts, and the sciences.

I want to dance in the rain.

I want to fly with or without wings.

I want to bungee-jump off the mountains in New Zealand.

I want to travel around the world.

I want to explore the earth like a wanderlust.

I want to sky-dive.

I want to climb the highest mountain in the Himalayas.

I want to dive around beautiful Grecian islands in the Mediterranean.

If there is an expedition to Pluto, I want to go too.

What he calls the Rock-Star Personality, because I am always, always wanting to do anything and everything right away. But he wants me to sit and wait for the moment to happen, because he really, really wants to come along with me. And I want him to come along with me, too. I feel kind of sad when we do not do something together. It is just the way I feel. Some parts of life can be so hard, but the thing is we will survive. These are beautiful times.

The only drawback is the fact that right now I am kind of confined to my studies, but only for a little while. I hope everyone will be a little patient and hold on, because my journey has not ended yet. From a positive perspective, I sense a lot of excitement in the air. The vibes are vibrating vigorously between the particles; a whole aura of happiness is beaming between the neutrons and protons, the charges canceling each other out because of the equilibrium, thus making the charge positive. Sometimes it is too positive I cannot hide… but wait! I got stuff to do which will be done soon enough, so please, please, please be patient with me, and be good.

At times when it rains so bad the roofs start shaking, I want to go out and dance in the rain. I want to get wet, so wet that I am drained. I want to jump off the cliff even, and fall so freely there is nothing to do except living in the moment. I want to shake, and shake, and shake it all. I want to break free, and experience life right now, right as it is. The Blitzkreig, with its natural warring attitude-that I want to fight along also. And I do not care, because these make me feel so fulfilled.

The time I am writing this is already past 3AM in the morning. I am just done with the first round of analysis over some creative work by a particular trauma victim. His writing was exceptionally good – therapeutic for him in a sense – that set me in deep wonderment. Though it did not eventually unclasp the locks to his initial dread, it helped him approach death with a much more positive perspective. Surreal as it sounded, probably to more “normal”people like you and me, it was a hopeless situation he was dealing with. One that had only one end, and a horrific one too.

Where the sweet mouth could not move, and the beautiful lips refused to speak, but the Chambers of Life keeps pounding, and pounding, and pounding, beating loud and clear to dear life, attempting to suppress the drowning emotions away, but at the very same time wanting to cry out. Or wail, even. Oh, who would hear? More importantly, who would help? Often the searing pain of even re-enacting the ordeal in the silent, yet tragic mind results in the victim pulling a mask over his face, only to hide the scars that so embolden him. Time over time the mask grows so thick it necessitates a trustworthy companion to walk carefully down the dwindling stairs of terror right into the dungeon, allowing for the past to surface, little by little.

In the case of unjust death, all the victim could possibly do is sit and wait for the minutes to tick by, slowly, dreadfully, wasting and rotting away into disintegration. It is quite an unfortunate thing to realize, but sometimes the laws and politics interfere with the people, and that becomes an absolutely dangerous thing. The truth is that all of us are looking for a purpose in life; some have found it, while others are still searching for it. What is you were looking for your own treasure box of purpose, when out of the blue, someone comes up to you and tells you that you are going to die tomorrow? How would you feel? Or worse still, what if the ground cracks and opens up, consuming all that was once rightfully yours in less than an hour?

With the blink of an eye, one’s locus of control is shattered into a thousand pieces; every sound, every moment is scrutinized in the senses. Everything seems to get out of hand right at the point of time. Social connections are lost, food is gone, the gory scenes of dead people are everywhere – even the air pukes of death. Images of the self in the same state of destruction, with blood streaming from his wounded torso, form in the mind.

And when it comes, the butler shall open the huge oak doors. The Lady shall step out in her five-inch gold heels, and glide across the path to the Mercedes Benz waiting at the other end, her beautiful dark red hair brushing against the wind, and the satin ruffles of her long black dress sweeping lightly along. The chauffeur shall step out and open the car doors for her, and usher her in.

And then the Lady shall go on a journey deep into the unknown, but she shall not be worried, for she knows she is in safe hands.

Not every Tom, Dick, and Harry is capable of comprehending my writings; it takes one of considerable wisdom, I suppose.

Does Time wait for you, or do you wait for time, I wonder? (Photo credits to Ekamil Razali)

Yes, I am aware time is ticking by. The minute hands are sweeping away by the day, and at each forward move rocks of obstacles are hurled my way. Yet it is only the code by which this intangible thing called time works.

The effort spent – time itself, and energy as well – it shall not go to waste. When I wrote The Blitzkreig, I meant it. When I wrote all the other posts after that, I meant them too. Whilst I have been busy sharpening my swords of authenticity, I have been through nightmares too, where pots kept clanking and alarms kept ringing perpetuously. Probably I was faced with a paradigm shift, but no, not that I deny it, however it absolutely is not so! It has been like this until someone came over and shook me tlll he woke me from my bad dreams. Just saying.

Tragedy befell the poor, pretty mind, and it purged out a loud: “Oh!” Nonetheless, the neurons still decided to head on to the party instead together with the protons and the electrons. Together, they downed high doses of whisky, zapping all the way up and down through the cranium, and left with empty bottles lying on the dance floor.

And emerged as one from the doors more silent, solemn, and whatever else, with their minds readied for mental combat. The thing is that every time after something bad occurs, a bigger, brighter thing is churned out. At least, that is the general idea most people think happen.

Do I look like I have won a battle in my dreams or something? (Photo credits to Ekamil Razali)

At times I find myself blungeoning deep down into the abyss of deeply-crested emotions. My self is lost, fully submerging into an array of resounding heartbeats that pierce through the ear canal with as much pitch as the sound of gunshot. As I descend, countless questions bombard my existence, some so easy I could simply hurl them back wherever they came from, some so difficult they nearly crush me with all their weight.

In all the mania of drama, yes, I am in reality, hurt. Tired of the predispositions I have been placed in. For no one knows not what I long for. There exists this consistent battle between the silent heart and the beautiful mind. Sometimes, the heart wins; sometimes, the mind. Sometimes the heart and mind find a way to work together amicably, amidst all battle – and that, I tell you, that is a very funny thing.

Which is so because they have to please the Soul, a wondrous piece of art, mere atoms framed synchronously in position. For the body is to live.

And when this occurs, gallant music orchestrates out from within the Chambers of Life, through the arteries, all the way up to the Pineal Gland, where the Soul sits. His Eyes gaze forbiddingly, as if he had been forced to wait for the answers for too long. His Ears catch the first notes of violin softly humming from far below. Slowly, gradually, the harmony echoes through the empty space of flesh and blood, filling the entire abode of humanity. As if the battle has been won. It has, in its own way.

Could you name me a certain film that does not have any love theme? Kind of hard, isn’t it?

Films and music videos and dramas – stage art, as a matter of fact – really have a sort of influence over the complex ideologies of love. It just crossed my choo-choo train of thoughts these very words from a song of a 90’s band The Corrs that goes along the lines of: “I will run away, I will run away with you.”

Oh, how sweet that would be. But it is a little too idealistic, is it not? Because love, no matter how gentle or how vulgar – love sells.

I told a playwright friend I will turn up with a post on the very same subject, with the very same title, If You Look At Love Hard Enough by Mat Atahari. And in the state of meshiness (pardon the pun) my mind is caught up in, I shall write this little prose, regardless of what you presume. Hopefully it will give a little insight into my understanding of the subject matter at hand.

Is love for real, or is it void? (Photograph courtesy of Alicia Ai Leng)

Should have, could have, might have – but did not. I must smack myself in the face. The daydreaming I have plunged myself into with all the diving through the deepest depths… it is still going to continue.

This is the 21st century we are now experiencing at the forefront of conciousness. Yet I choose to submerge a bit further through the id and out the superego as I search through the shelves of my memory for those materials I need to put to good use, specifically.

At times it takes me to a particular point in my life when I do know absolutely what I want to write about, but the hand churns up something else. Which is quite astounding, because till now, I had expected the hand to obey the mind.

But now I shall shut my hand with orders of persecution and open my mind instead. My love for drama shall be a little more pronounced in all my studies and research. It is a personal attempt to bridge a conjuction between the subject of the Sciences and the Arts. That combined with the philosophies if the ancient Grecian fathers and the rich culture of the past… ooh la la; I could have almost orgasm.

But of course I do not.

Have you tried mixing vodka with a little berry juice? Or, perhaps, whisky? It is approximately similar, only that you put your drunken thoughts to print for all to read and ponder and laugh about.

The Masai warriors are stomping their sharply-carved spears onto the ground, their loincloths waving slightly in the hot, airy climate. Let the leprachauns dance along the rhythm with pretty little green shemrocks under their cute little feet.